


A Different Kind of Strength

by c2t2



Category: Bleach
Genre: Dark, Gen, Gore, I wrote this to get it OUT OF MY HEAD, NPC Deaths, Soul Society Sucks, Trauma, Violence, You're Welcome, very dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c2t2/pseuds/c2t2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Squad 4 is tough.<br/>They have to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Notes, explanations, and commentary can be found in my livejournal (username squizbee)

Hanataro was very old. He was very old, and he knew many things, yet he was not easy to respect. Hanataro was so weak that he could not injure opponents without first taking serious damage to his own body. He stuttered and trembled and groveled, and he suffered battleshock after every mission, even missions against a single Hollow, and sometimes missions with no Hollow at all.

Few shinigami knew that Seireitei depended on Hanataro and his powers, which were uniquely suited to the ignoble duties of the Fourth. He had been an _eta_ in life, and he was an _eta_ still.

An attack was reported in the 75th district in East Rukongai. Twelfth Division concluded that the Hollow was weak, so they did not need to send a competent warrior. Hanataro was sent to clean up the damage with a small squadron of recent Academy graduates who had applied to join the Fourth. Many of the recent graduates were more powerful than Hanataro, and grumbled at having to follow such a weak leader. He did not blame them; they were nobles or vassals of the nobility, so they knew little about the world. However, he did not look at them. Hanataro knew from experience that he would never see most of them again.

Hanataro's mind was on the mission, on the four terrible things he must do before he was finished.

The Hollow could breathe fire, and the 75th district was far from Seireitei, so part of the town had burned to the ground by the time Hanataro arrived. He left his satchel and his outer robes behind with the rest of the squad and approached the Hollow alone. This was his routine, the third-worst part of the mission, but Hanataro never fell apart until it was over and he was safe in Seireitei. He stood still as the creature vomited fire at him.

Hanataro felt his skin blister and peel as his flesh began to bubble and melt. Centuries of experience meant he no longer screamed. As long as he could still hold his zanpakuto, nothing else mattered.

After the hellish inferno ended, Hanataro concentrated solely on moving his arm, unable to feel his own blade cut into his blackened flesh.

Time seemed to run backwards. His zanpakuto powered up as it healed wounds, and Hanataro's wounds were very serious indeed. His flesh returned to its usual pallor and with a swing of his arm, Hanataro sent the damage back at the Hollow. The monster disintegrated with an echoing howl, and Hanataro walked back to his team and recovered his clothing. His body trembled from the shock of being mortally wounded and healed in the span of seconds. The more frequently he did it, the worse the shock to his system. After a thousand years, Hanataro knew when he needed to rest. The violence of his shaking meant he was overdue for a medical leave. He would clean the sewers in solitude and silence for the next six months, but he could not think of that until this task was finished.

Then began the second-worst part of the mission. Hanatarou perversely wished the fire had been more intense. It was easier to sift through ashes. He did not look to see how the recruits were coping with the things they saw. Few shinigami stayed in the Fourth after their first mission.

They cleared bodies and rubble for hours. Hanatarou levered a wall off a pair of bodies that had once been a girl and a dog, curled up in a shed to hide from the monster. They were not badly burned, so they either suffocated in the toxic smoke or were crushed by the collapsed wall.

In what had once been an alley, a moderately burned corpse clutched another which was charred black. Either she was trying to rescue a loved one's body, or she had tried to use a human shield. It did not matter now. Hanataro did not dwell on it.

One of the bodies was so badly burned that it broke apart as he tried to drag it to the pile. He moved the limbs one at a time. One of the hands clutched a metal spike. He must have attacked the monster directly. When Hanataro tried to drag the torso, the head came off as well, the jaw falling open in a silent scream to reveal a squirm of maggots and an unburned tongue swollen with rot. It must have been one of the Hollow's first victims, to have already begun to decay. He was glad the torso did not rupture and spew vile liquids on the nearby workers.

After the first hour, they were used to the smell of burned hair and flesh. But flakes of black ash were seeping into the creases of their skin and black char embedded under their nails. Even with vigorous washing, the smell would cling to them for days.

Then came the worst part of the mission.

They left the corpses in one large pile. It was the line of wounded they turned to now. The lightly and moderately injured residents had long ago run off to escape the Hollow, leaving only the maimed and dying to be gathered up by the Fourth.

Shinigami could survive almost anything so long as they got to a healer before they died. The healer would restore a shinigami's reiatsu and the body would heal itself. Only one of the survivors had reiatsu. With constant care and lots of food, it was possible that some of the others might someday recover.

Outer Rukongai had almost no food, and the Fourth couldn't be spared to nurse powerless commoners back to health. There was only one merciful option.

They pulled the survivor with reiatsu out of the line of injured. Hanataro was nothing if not careful, and walked down the line nicking every one of them with his zanpakuto, just in case one of them had hidden power that he could not sense. None of their injuries healed, and Hanataro knew there was nothing more he could do.

The squad carried the survivor with reiatsu out of the danger zone, and because of his reiatsu, Hanataro easily healed him with a slice of his blade. He then turned back to the line of wounded victims - and behind them, the broken and blackened corpses - and unleashed his recharged sword, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

The rubble had been cleared, and there were no bodies to spread disease. They were finished in Rukongai.

They took the healed survivor with them to Seireitei. Hanataro would enroll him in his class at the Academy, and then the rest would be up to him.

Among their other thankless duties. Fourth division taught remedial lessons at the Academy. Few people knew about these classes. Most of the students would not graduate into the Academy proper.

Hanataro taught them all. Children and adults. When they arrived, few of them could count past ten or write their own names. Some did not have names at all. They stumbled into Seireitei on their own, or, like this survivor, were brought back from missions.

There were few shinigami from outer Rukongai. This was not because those districts lacked talented people. On the contrary, every individual was pushed past his or her limits merely to survive. Innate talent blossomed into frightening power under such conditions.

The problem was that their self-made families needed them far more than the shinigami ever would. Those who made their way to Seireitei were almost always alone, or very rarely in pairs.

They had endured fire, flood, disease, famine, violence, violence, and more violence. They all came to Seireitei for the same reason - there was nobody left who needed them. Their own reiatsu protected them as they watched everyone they loved die. They had vacant, empty eyes and moved as if they were in a dream. Their power was breathtaking. Their minds were broken. They rarely lasted long.

Hanataro finished enrolling the survivor. The mission was nearly complete. Tomorrow morning was the final and fourth-worst part of the mission: visiting every one of the Academy graduates who had accompanied him, making note of the many who had left, and cutting the ropes of those who had hung themselves in the night.

End

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Eta is the feudal term for Burakumin - Japan's caste of untouchables. Eta is now considered a slur, but was the common term centuries ago when Hanataro died. So I reason that it's still part of his identity. (This is all personal fanon anyway)
> 
> 2\. Totally wrecking the mood: the whole time I was writing... In my head Mike Rowe was following them around with a camera crew, narrating an episode of Dirty Jobs.


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